


Ronald Bilius Weasley's Theory of Time and Relativity

by Sarea Okelani (sarea)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-18
Updated: 2004-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarea/pseuds/Sarea%20Okelani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a married man just has to admit to himself how much he longs for little boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ronald Bilius Weasley's Theory of Time and Relativity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mynuet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet/gifts).



> Written with love for Sharlene. Happy birthday!! I hope your day is fabulous. Thanks to Jade for her quick, amusing, and helpful beta, and for holding my hand. But not like that. The very wrong -- but accurate -- summary is hers.

Ronald Bilius Weasley's Theory of Time and Relativity  
by Sarea Okelani

~.~

Ron Weasley didn't realize how much he liked boys until he was married.

It had never been a problem before. He'd never really cared before, one way or another, and wasn't sure when that had changed. He knew his wife could tell. Hermione never missed anything. Even after all this time, he was incapable of hiding things from her. So she knew; she had to.

He kept waiting for her to talk to him about it, waiting for her to look at him with those penetrating, all-knowing eyes and ask him just what was going on. She'd tell him she had noticed his odd behavior, such as his reaction when she'd told him she was expecting their third child. She would use that voice of hers that could inspire shame like no other voice -- except possibly his mother's. He had two children who needed him, she would say, and a third on the way. What kind of example was he setting?

Ron _wished_ he didn't feel this way. He wished he could snap his fingers and make these thoughts and feelings disappear, but he couldn't. So what was he supposed to do?

It was all going to come to a head tomorrow at the Burrow. Everyone was going to be there, celebrating We Beat You-Know-Who and Didn't Die Trying Day.

There were going to be so many boys at the party. Ron didn't know if he would be able to keep the hunger out of his eyes, and hoped that at the very least, no one but Hermione would notice.

~.~

It was odd to stand in front of the door to the Burrow like a stranger when, for eighteen years (well, nineteen, but it was difficult to find a job after the war), it had been his home, and he had come and gone as he pleased. Well, as he pleased and as long as his mother didn't know about it.

Charlie opened the door. Ron could hear the shrieks and laughter of at least a dozen children coming from inside. Sharlene and Melissa looked at one another, delighted, then raced in to join the fray. Ron lost sight of his daughters within two seconds. He was pulled into a rough hug by his brother, who released him and pounded him on the back.

"You look more like a string bean every time I see you," Charlie said.

A retort immediately rose to Ron's lips to defend himself -- he had long since filled out his lanky frame with muscle -- but he saw the challenge and twinkle in Charlie's eyes and immediately deflated. Being the youngest male in the family meant that he would have to endure such baiting for many years to come. Possibly for the rest of his life.

"I need a drink," he said.

"Well, go on outside," Charlie said. "Plenty to eat and drink. Mum's been cooking up a storm."

"I thought Dad was going to use the barbecue grill," Hermione said.

That was enough to make Ron laugh, and he and Charlie exchanged grins. "Haven't you learned a thing in all this time? How long have we been together?"

"We've been married seven years, six months, fourteen days, and three hours," she answered promptly.

Ron stared at her, amazed. "Really?"

"No," Hermione answered. "How should I know? Well, the seven years part is right, anyway. I think."

"Well, Mum just wants to ensure that we'll all get to eat," Ron said. "If we're lucky, we might get one or two things resembling food off of Dad's grill. I think mainly he just wants to set it on fire."

"Ah," said Hermione.

Charlie waved them off, saying that most everyone had already arrived, but he had indoor duty. Ron and Hermione made their way to the backyard.

They greeted his mother, who, after a harried but pleased hello, promptly stuffed a bowl of mashed potatoes into Ron's arms and told him to cast an insulation charm on it while she went to check on the pies she'd baked. Ron saw that Bill, Percy, and their wives were there, as well as Charlie's wife Nancy. There were also two good-looking witches who seemed at a loss amidst the happy yelling of about a dozen children; Fred and George's dates, no doubt, though the twins themselves could not be seen. Ron and Hermione waved at the general assembly, who waved back and greeted them warmly. Off to the left Ron spotted Harry and the eldest Weasley, prodding at a circular black object that was supposed to be emitting smoke and flame, or so said the myth. Ron looked around, hoping to see Julia.

"Where's Julia?" Hermione murmured beside him, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. "He's broken off with another one." She sighed heavily.

"I liked her," Ron said. Harry's girlfriends never lasted very long, not since his and Ginny's relationship had ended. But that was nearly a decade ago; it was long past time to move on. Especially now that she was married. Well, had _been_ married, for almost that long.

"So did I," Hermione replied. "I wish he would find someone."

"Maybe he doesn't need someone," Ron said. "Maybe he's better off alone. Maybe he's happier that way."

"Maybe," Hermione sighed. "But he doesn't seem happy. It isn't so much that I want to see him married than it is that I'd like to see him content. So that he could ... well, you know." Ron and Hermione had discussed the topic at length, so he did know. "She doesn't think of him that way anymore, and I hate that he can't seem to move on. You see the way he looks at her sometimes."

"Yeah," Ron said heavily.

"And I thought this Julia girl was finally ... well, no use talking about it. What's done is done."

"Maybe she couldn't make it," Ron suggested. "We're only assuming they broke up."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Hermione said. "But I suppose it's a possibility. Come on, let's say hello."

Before they were able to take two steps, they were intercepted by Bill. Hermione smiled and kissed her brother-in-law on the cheek, then made her way over to Harry. Ron gratefully took the beer his brother offered while noting the balloons and streamers that were half-heartedly trying to make the yard look more festive.

"It looked different before," Bill commented. "Fred and George really outdid themselves. It looked like a bloody ceremony at the Ministry or something. Only it turned out that they really _had_ outdone themselves."

"Ah," Ron said. "Pyrotechnics?"

"Yeah. Well, theirs was nothing compared to Mum's."

Ron nodded and gulped his beer. "Are they banished?"

"They're hiding in their room until Mum's finished getting all the food ready. You know that always calms her down." Fred and George were the only ones whose room had remained unchanged since all the Weasley children had moved out of the Burrow. Their mother had claimed that it was a toxic wasteland even magic couldn't salvage.

Ron looked over at Harry and Hermione, to see if she was questioning Harry about Julia and what his response was. To his disappointment, she was holding her nose and waving smoke away, and appeared to be telling the two abashed men how the grill worked. When they nodded complacently, she made her way back to Ron and Bill.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"It's as we expected," she reported, disappointment coloring her voice.

"What?" Bill prompted.

"It's nothing," Ron and Hermione muttered.

"You mean the fact that Harry keeps dumping his perfectly nice girlfriends because he's still holding a torch for Gin?"

Bill's audience could not keep the surprise from showing on their faces. He shook his head. "It isn't as though he hides it very well, is it?" They all looked over at Harry, who appeared to be sticking his head into the grill, at Mr. Weasley's insistence.

"I told them what they were doing wrong," Hermione said in exasperation.

Still looking on, Bill shook his head and took another sip of his beer. "Poor sod."

"Who ... Harry or your father?" Hermione asked.

Bill considered for a moment. "I don't know."

The three of them chuckled and watched as Harry gingerly put a lit match into the grill. A triumphant look crossed his face, but Mr. Weasley looked unimpressed.

"Oh, no," Hermione breathed, clutching Ron's arm.

Ron saw his father grab a bulky white bottle and pour some of the liquid into the grill, ignoring Harry's frantic "No! No!"s. Flames erupted, shooting three feet into the air as Arthur watched in fascination and Harry stopped, dropped, and rolled, successfully putting out the fire on his shirt.

"Better go try and save him," Ron said, "though it's a lot more entertaining just to watch."

"He saved you from a giant Cardozawing that was going to feed you to its babies," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was like two years ago," grumbled Ron, but nevertheless made his way over. And just in time, as Hermione was waylaid by Bill's wife, who wanted to talk about her latest trip to Diagon Alley and the ever-rising cost of a good makeover potion. Ron said hello to his sister-in-law, but kept moving; though he had long since gotten over his adolescent crush on Fleur, he often found himself coming out of some kind of stupor when she spoke to him, realizing he had no idea what she'd just said. Hermione thought it was the effect of Fleur's veela blood; it was difficult to convince her that no, it was just plain hard to understand Fleur's accent, and of the words he did understand, he was bored silly by them.

Along the way he was greeted by two of Bill's sons ... or were they Percy's? Ron had so many nephews, all of them red-haired, that it was getting a bit dicey just remembering what their names were, never mind who they all belonged to. He dodged a pack of boys running together as he neared his destination.

"Want some help?" Ron offered, grabbing another bottle of beer and offering it to Harry, who took it from him gratefully, looking sweaty, sooty, and miserable. His glasses were slightly askew.

Harry's face brightened at the offer. "Yes, that would be gr--"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron, Harry and I can handle this on our own, can't we?" his father said.

Harry wilted under Arthur Weasley's expectant face. "Er, I suppose so..."

"Of course we can! You go mind the others, Ron, and don't worry about things over here. Harry and I will be B-B-Q-ing delicious things for all of you to eat." Arthur eyed Harry's beer. Noticing, Harry's innate politeness kicked in and he offered it to the older man.

To Ron's surprise, his father took it. He hadn't offered his father a beer because Arthur rarely drank. Now he said, "Dad, if you want a beer, I'll just get one for you."

Arthur was studying the bottle as if it were something he'd never laid eyes on before. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Caution: flammable," he read excitedly. "Imagine that! Do you really think it is?"

Harry was already shouting, "No, Mr. Weasley!" but it was too late; Arthur had upended the bottle into the grill, sending flames reaching for the sky once more. The three of them coughed and waved their arms as black smoke billowed from the grill into their faces.

"Well," Ron choked, stepping back, "I can't wait to see what you'll be cooking with that thing. I'm sure it will be delicious." He peered a bit closer. "Is that the charcoal you were talking about, Dad?"

"It's the chicken," Harry said miserably.

Ron tried not to blanch. He smiled brightly. "Looks great!" He wondered what his mother had made for them to eat. As he walked away, he thought he heard Harry say, "Help me," but it was so faint that Ron thought he had to be imagining things.

Hermione was sitting at one of the tables, and Ron took a seat next to her. He sighed, breathing in the fresh air, squinting as he looked up. The sun was out, and though it wasn't particularly strong, Hermione took out a bottle of sunscreen and together they applied it to his exposed skin. Her fingers were soft and cool.

"Why didn't you come over?" Ron asked.

"I didn't want to be in danger of smoke inhalation."

"Smart woman."

"I'm just trying to protect your unborn daughter."

Ron patted her hand and smiled, hoping his expression looked more enthusiastic than he felt. They had found out last month that Hermione was pregnant with a girl -- again. Ron felt the familiar twinge of bitterness in his chest that he had yet to conceive a son of his own, despite the fact that his father had managed to sire six boys in a row. Ron had never thought it would matter to him -- in fact, it hadn't mattered until just recently. It wasn't until they had been told to expect another daughter that he'd realized how much he'd been hoping for a son.

Hermione wasn't fooled, and she patted his hand in return, giving it a comforting squeeze. Ron suspected she knew how he felt, and was a lot more understanding than Ron felt he deserved. No matter what, the baby would be their child, and he would love her, but there was a part of him that ached to have a son of his own, a boy he could teach Quidditch to and buy his first broomstick for. A son who would carry on the Weasley name (never mind that he had plenty of nephews who were already doing just that). All of his brothers -- with the exception of the twins -- had so far sired only sons. Ron couldn't visit any of their homes without tripping over at least two of his nephews, it seemed. Ginny had been the only girl born into the Weasley family in generations. So what was wrong with him? Why did he only have daughters?

"We still have plenty of time," Hermione said softly.

"I know," he mumbled, but couldn't look at her. What if it never happened? What if he just had girls, over and over again? What if he was the only Weasley male never to have a son?

Hermione sighed, then called, "Melissa! Come over here, please."

"Awww, Mum!" said their younger daughter, who had been running by with a stick in her hand. No doubt it was supposed to be a wand. "We're playing Aurors and Death Eaters, and I'm a Death Eater! I've got to catch Bernard, he's the most powerfulest Auror, and..." Melissa kept up a steady stream of chatter about why she couldn't possibly take time out of playing with her sister and cousins while her mother slathered her with sunscreen. Melissa was ginger-haired like Ron, and had the same sensitive skin. Hermione put the lotion away, allowing Melissa to wriggle out of her arms. Sharlene had inherited her mother's tolerance for sunlight, though at the earliest available opportunity Ron knew that Hermione would insist that their elder daughter use the sunscreen, too.

"The last of us have arrived," Charlie called, stepping into the yard. "Whoops," he said as four young boys shot out from behind him, looking decidedly unlike their cousins, with their fair hair and designer robes.

Immediately, all the children who had noticed the arrival of their other cousins came running over, demanding to know what they had brought to play with. "They always have the best toys," Sharlene had once explained.

Ginny and her husband followed Charlie outside, Ginny laughing to see the children so excited. Ron stood and kissed his sister on the cheek, then turned to his brother-in-law. "Malfoy," he said.

"Weasley," was the rejoinder.

"You two want a beer?"

Draco accepted, but Ginny demurred. "You know I can't," she said.

"Oh, that's right," Ron said, flushing. He'd forgotten that his sister was pregnant again; she had owled them about a month ago with the news. You couldn't tell by looking at her. Hermione wasn't very big yet, either, but Ron could tell.

"Come sit by me," Hermione invited Ginny, patting the seat next to her.

"This is so exciting, Hermione, we've never been pregnant at the same time before," Ginny said, taking the offered seat. "We'll be able to go shopping together ... decorate the rooms ... complain about our swollen feet and morning sickness and having to pee all the time ..."

"I can't wait," Hermione said dryly. "Have you found out the sex of the baby yet?"

"Yes," Ginny said, and Ron thought that her smiled had become rather fixed.

"So have we!" Hermione said happily. "We're having a girl."

Unexpectedly, Ginny's lip began to quiver and her eyes looked like they were filling with tears. The sudden change in disposition took Ron by surprise. Well, really, he thought, it wasn't _that_ bad news. "That's wonderful, Hermione. Really, really ... I'm sorry." Ginny tried to laugh, taking the paper napkin Hermione had held out to dab at her eyes. "I'm being silly. You're very lucky. Both of you. Congratulations." She sounded normal, but it was ruined at the end when she burst into sobs. "Excuse me." Ginny stood quickly and ran into the house.

Draco pushed his beer at Ron and immediately followed her.

Ron and Hermione stared after them, then looked at one another.

"What the hell just happened here?" he asked. "One minute she was happy, the next she was crying!"

"It's the hormones," Hermione said. "But she did seem genuinely upset..."

From inside the house, they heard Ginny shout, "I thought you would be different! But you're all the same!" A door slammed.

There was a period of silence, and then a moment later, Draco returned, looking defeated. "She doesn't want to talk to me," he said hollowly, his hands shoved into his trousers.

"I'll go," said Hermione.

When she was gone, Ron turned to demand answers from Draco, as he hated to see his sister upset, but his brother-in-law looked so dejected that Ron found he couldn't. Instead, he offered the beer back to Draco, who accepted, but held it in his hand without drinking it, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

"What's happened?" Ron finally asked.

"What?" Draco turned and looked at him, as if just realizing that he was there. "Oh. We found out today that we're having a boy."

"Congratulations," Ron managed to say, trying not to be resentful. It was bad enough that his brothers all had sons, but it was galling, truly galling, that Malfoy already had four boys and was now getting another. And he wasn't even happy about it. He wasn't even grateful. In fact, he sounded the very opposite of those things.

"Ginny's going to divorce me," Draco blurted, then looked away and went silent.

It was the most vulnerable Ron had ever seen him, but he wasn't going to feel pity. "Why?" he asked, an edge to his voice. "Have you been playing around on her? Is that why she's upset? And with her pregnant. That's just lower than low--"

"Oh, shut up, Weasley. I wouldn't do that to her."

Draco was so unconcernedly dismissive that it made Ron believe him the way no amount of genuine protestation would have.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I just told you. We're having a boy. _Another_ boy. I promised her it would be a girl this time. She wants a girl so badly. So hearing Gra--er, Hermione say that you two were having a girl ... it upset her."

Ron could only wonder at the unfairness of it all. He wanted a son and all he had were daughters. His sister wanted a daughter and all she had were sons. "Well, she can't blame you," he finally said. "It's not as though you can control these things. Though that also makes you pretty stupid for the promise."

"I know ... but I thought that our chances were pretty good this time. And we saw a specialist and everything..."

Ron's ears perked up. "There are specialists who can influence an unborn child's gender?"

Draco looked at him askance. "Yes, Weasley, and behold our victory over nature," he said sarcastically.

Right. Good point. "Well, she'll get over it."

Draco shook his head. "I think she's going to leave me. I broke my promise, disappointed her. She'll want some other bloke who might be able to give her a girl."

Ron sighed in exasperation. What the hell was this nonsense? Against all common sense, his family's disapproval, his own pleading, and the love of a man like Harry, his sister had fallen in love with this prat and married him. If the myriad objections from people she loved and trusted hadn't changed her mind, he doubted this would. Ron wasn't the most observant man in the world, but it was obvious to him that even now, Ginny was crazy about her husband. And her husband was clearly just plain crazy.

But Malfoy was still Malfoy, and so he said, "You're right," and gave a careless little shrug. "Harry's just broken it off with his girlfriend, and he and Ginny _did_ used to date. Would probably be easy to start something up again."

"I'd kill him," Draco said, with such intensity that it actually made Ron nervous, glancing over to where his friend appeared to be gesturing and pleading with his father to give up on the grill. Malfoy was capable of murder, Ron was sure of that.

"Just having a little fun with you, Malfoy, don't start thinking mad things," Ron said hastily. If Harry and Draco got into a fight and it came out that it was something Ron had said to provoke it, he was going to get it from Hermione. "Harry would never do that. _Ginny_ would never do that."

Draco didn't say anything, but he lifted the bottle of beer to his lips and drank the entire thing in one go. Ron sipped his more slowly, feeling uncomfortable, wishing Hermione would return. For once, his wishes were answered, as Hermione -- and Ginny, Ron was relieved to see -- exited the house and made their way over to their husbands.

Behind Ginny, Hermione smiled at Ron and shook her head slightly, indicating that the storm had passed. Draco and Ginny stood apart, the tension nearly palpable. His sister looked a trifle embarrassed and wouldn't meet Draco's eyes. "I'm sorry..." she said with a trace of shyness. "I didn't mean to cause a scene. It was silly of me..." She tentatively reached for her husband's hand, unsure of her welcome, but as she was going to let her hand fall to her side again, Draco immediately caught it with his own.

"Well, I'm glad you realize that," Draco admonished, sounding convincingly arrogant, nearly managing to mask the slight unsteadiness of his voice. He pulled her close to his side, despite the heat of the day already making them all perspire.

Ron raised his eyebrows. Not a minute ago, his brother-in-law had been going on and on like a complete git about Ginny leaving him and taking up with another man. He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Draco's face stopped him. A man had his pride, after all. Besides, from the way Ginny was trying not to smile, Ron suspected that she already knew the truth.

"The food's ready!" Molly called.

The excellent meal prepared by Mrs. Weasley (Mr. Weasley made a big show of eating the meat he had grilled, but after the second piece gave up and fell upon his wife's cooking like a starving man) cheered everyone up, and soon, most of the adults went inside the house. Ron found himself sitting in the rapidly cooling air with Draco, the two of them silently volunteering to stay behind and watch the children, most of whom insisted on playing outside. As far as Ron could tell, the game involved hiding, yelling, and the occasional dash around the yard. He felt tired just watching them.

The only two kids who had opted to go in were Draco and Ginny's eldest son, and Melissa, who enjoyed physical activity, but tired easily and occasionally preferred to play quietly with her dolls.

"Where are you going?" Draco had asked Talis as the boy prepared to go into the house. "Don't you want to stay outside and play with the others?"

Talis had shrugged. "I'm bored playing that game," he said. "Now I want to play with Liss and her Quidditch dolls."

"But wouldn't it be more fun to actually play Quidditch?" Draco replied, sounding a bit desperate. "Maybe we can convince the others to start a game."

"We didn't bring our brooms, Dad."

"I'm sure the Weasleys have extra brooms..."

Talis's raised eyebrow and skeptical smirk was so like his father's that Ron nearly snickered. Turn about really was fair play after all.

After awhile Sharlene came over to sit next to Ron, and as she often did, began to quiz him about the ins and outs of Quidditch. Though she was young, she retained facts with alarming accuracy, the same way her mother did. She frequently tested Ron, asking the same questions to make sure he gave the same answers. It was how she determined his trustworthiness, as well as whether he knew as much or more about Quidditch than she did. He hadn't disappointed her yet, and Ron was very much looking forward to the day when Sharlene would play on a House team at Hogwarts, as he was sure she would.

But she usually only talked about Quidditch when she was about to sleep -- it was her version of a bedtime story -- so Ron knew she was tired. He scooped her up in his arms and took her inside, laying her on the couch and covering her with his discarded cloak.

Ron grabbed another couple of bottles of beer and went back outside, placing one in front of Draco.

"I know what you're thinking," Draco said broodingly.

The accusatory way this was said made Ron blink. "Uh, you do? About what?"

"You know what," Draco replied shortly. He glared at Ron, obviously trying to intimidate him into admitting something, but Ron didn't have the first clue. But suddenly, the facade disappeared, and Draco seemed to crumple. Ron was reminded of Ginny's mood change earlier, though he was pretty sure it wasn't pregnancy hormones that were affecting Draco. Or, he hoped, anyway. "Oh Merlin, my son's a fruitcake!" Draco cried, burying his face in his hands.

Ron looked at his brother-in-law in astonishment. "A fruitcake? You mean--"

"A pouf! A disco-dancing, Oscar Wilde reading, Barbella Quiksand ticket-holding friend of Dorothy!"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Talis! Preferring to play with dolls!"

"You're being completely ridiculous."

"Am I? _Am I?_ It's easy for you to say. It's obvious you'll get to watch _your_ child making her way around a Quidditch pitch some day. My son will ... oh God, he'll probably want to sew the uniforms."

Ron was amazed. Draco was seriously worried about this? Ron couldn't fathom it, though he couldn't help but feel a little bit smug about Sharlene. Imagine, Draco Malfoy being envious of _him_ for a change. It put Ron in such a good mood, in fact, that he decided to be magnanimous. "Malfoy, you have three other sons, with another on the way. One of them is bound to like Quidditch."

Draco pounced. "So you _admit_ that you think Talis is a pouf. You bastard." He ran careless fingers through his hair. "Anyway, who cares about the rest of them? Talis is my eldest, my _heir._ But if he's -- then he won't have children -- the Malfoy Estate -- oh God --"

Draco was working himself into a state, and Ron knew he should probably call for reinforcements -- namely his sister -- to slap some sense into the other man, but he couldn't help it; he guffawed until his stomach hurt. Draco's miserable face only set him off again. The way the git was carrying on about a nine-year-old boy and a distant future that was barely even written made Ron see clearly for the first time in months. The tightness he'd been carrying around loosened suddenly, and he felt it melt away like the leftover ice cream that still sat in their discarded dishes.

It had taken another idiot to show it to him, but Hermione had been right. She was always right; he didn't know why it caught him by surprise every time. He ought to be used to it by now.

They were all incredibly eager to mold their progeny, their families, into preconceived notions of perfection. Life didn't work that way. It threw things at people and forced them to dream and want and need. But it wasn't entirely cruel. It gave them something else, too.

"There's still time, Malfoy," Ron said, tipping the beer bottle up to his lips. "There's still lots of time."

**Author's Note:**

> Since I was writing this one for Shar, I wanted to incorporate elements I'd thought she'd enjoy, or have seen her enjoy in the past. Namely:
> 
> 1) D/G (duh)  
> 2) R/Hr  
> 3) Harry being passed over by Ginny for Draco. (Though how could you not feel for the poor guy???)  
> 4) Naming one of Ron's daughters after her.
> 
> Alas, no smut, though.
> 
> "A disco-dancing, Oscar Wilde reading, Barbella Quiksand ticket-holding friend of Dorothy!" -- Replace 'Barbella Quiksand' with 'Streisand' and you've got a line from Clueless.
> 
> I made up the Cardozawing, so you will not see such a creature in the Lexicon or elsewhere.
> 
> Thanks heaps for reading!


End file.
